Peace
by plumpthighs
Summary: Feliciano understands why he should be proud, because he understands that thousands of men and women could do Ludwig's job, but none could do it as well as his Ludwig. AU!ish GerIta


Feliciano's eyes are full and bright and teary, the same hazel they always are. They never tire or age a day. No matter how he's hurting, or how he's slumped over Ludwig, exhausted and stubborn, his eyes are always bright in the near-darkness.

"I don't want you to go," he whispers, for about the third time in the hour, and for about the third time in the hour, Ludwig sighs patiently and brings his fingers up to run them gently through the hair at the back of Feliciano's head. He needs a haircut.

"Will you let me?" He asks, and it can't be said that he laughs, but he smiles slightly, trying to shift to show Feliciano that he's been pinned to the bed by his weight.

Feliciano blinks up at him and doesn't move. That would waste time that could be spent as close to him as physically possible. "Yes," he nods slowly, and he curls up against Ludwig's chest and meets his eyes. Colder than his own, but just as bright. If the German chooses not to show that he has ambitions and hopes and the optimism to believe that they are possible, it's no one's business but his own. Feliciano wishes it was his business. He would let everyone see. Everyone should know how fantastic Ludwig's mind is, how huge his ideas and ideals are, and not restricted by logic and facts. He takes chances and calculated risks, and because he is so logical, and so tailored to everything he does - fine German engineering, personified - he almost always pulls it off. He is so beautifully clever. Feliciano nods again and swallows. His voice is little and fragile when he speaks. "Because you worked so hard."

The arms around him tighten and there are lips on his head. "Thank you," answers Ludwig softly. He sounds heavy and tired. Since Feliciano isn't beautifully clever or logical in the slightest, he feels like there is something very obvious he's missing. He understands why Ludwig is doing what he's doing. He understands why it's essential. He understands why he should be proud, because he understands that thousands of men and women could do Ludwig's job, but none could do it as well as his Ludwig.

He doesn't understand why his Ludwig has to be his Ludwig. So giving and self-destructive for the greater good. He doesn't understand how the very reasons he fell in love with the man could be the very reasons someone else will take him away. "I love you," mutters Feliciano. Ludwig squeezes him again, but he's already half-asleep, so Feliciano just lets him drift. It won't change a thing, anyway.

Ludwig goes back and forth, but never comes home. For a few weeks in north Africa, then the Middle East, and the most dangerous areas of the planet. Feliciano is reminded of it every night. He sits for hours in front of the television listening to how the situation has worsened (and it always worsens, never improves), and how more Peacekeepers are needed. He tries to guess when Ludwig will email him and tell him he's been relocated by keeping track of where and when the violence is flaring. It's a sick little game, but it's something to do besides worry.

Lovino tells him to remember to turn the television off and lock the door when he's going to bed. Feliciano promises he will, but he's still there in the morning, with the door unlocked and the morning headlines being announced sternly, because it isn't good news. His brother sighs and lets him sleep.

At the beginning, Feliciano would see the footage of the struggling civilians and know that they needed help more than he did. Now they seem selfish, enticing his loved ones into their quagmire with their sob stories. Feliciano wishes those people weren't hurting, of course he does. He just doesn't understand why Ludwig should be fighting their war for them. Ludwig would tell him he is not there to fight. Feliciano would ask him, then, why he carries a gun. Ludwig would explain it's because the people don't have the means to defend themselves. Feliciano would remain unconvinced, because he's weak and selfish and always has been, and it's Ludwig who is so inherently good and can understand the things he can't.

One day, an average, disgustingly long, horribly grey day, Ludwig's being sent home. He doesn't ask, doesn't even hint, but Feliciano's on the first plane to Berlin, and all those feelings of longing seem to stretch until he's sure they're at breaking point, but they never do. They won't until they see each other.

He tells himself to take that feeling and intensify it two-fold. And then again, and again, and again, until he feels quite sick and pale and the attendant asks if he's feeling alright. Because perhaps that's what those people feel. Knowing help is on the way and never knowing how close, or if it will be enough. Feliciano is no where near as hurt as they are. He tries to imagine losing everything and being unable to defend even himself, and having a strong, capable person help him. He understands why Ludwig chose to go, and why he was chosen. And he's not jealous anymore. He's unspeakably proud.

When Feliciano throws him arms around his broad shoulders, he knocks the blue helmet on Ludwig's pack and the blue beret on his head. He catches it quickly and shoves it back on, messily, because he has no time for care and attention, but he has a lot of time for the man who always strives to look professional around his peers. He steps back, worrying that the hug was a little too informal, as well.

Feliciano's eyes are full and bright and smiling, but teary, the same hazel as they always were. They never tire or age a day. Ludwig's are colder, and not as bright. There's not much of anything left in them at all. They hug again, properly, and everyone peels off in little groups until they're alone. And Ludwig wraps his arms around Feliciano and holds him as close as physically possible. His voice is little and fragile when he speaks. "I love you," he promises quietly, just for Feliciano to hear, and kisses his ear and puts his fingers up to run them through the hair on the back of Feliciano's head. He's had a haircut.

Feliciano squeezes him back and finally replies, with his own voice distant, because he's occupied with wondering why Ludwig is so hollow. He knows it's because he let him go. Because he worked so very hard.

"I love you, too."


End file.
